


I Am Not Bait

by Lmj21



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angry Sex, Consensual Sex, F/M, Light Angst, Oral Sex, PWP, Roughness, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lmj21/pseuds/Lmj21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has had enough.<br/>He has tried to maintain a good, professional working relationship with his fellow war council members but when the ladies are together they tease, laugh and exclude him. It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't also ignore every suggestion he made.</p><p>Josephine has defeated him one too many times and he needs to confront her for the sake of the Inquisition.</p><p>His motives are pure even if the outcome is not.</p><p>*Written for a Dragon Age Kink Meme Prompt * see notes for details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Not Bait

**Author's Note:**

> Any kudos/comments always welcome :)
> 
> Tried to develop moments from the in game incidental dialogue as the cause of their row. Once I started to think about it I thought there'd probably be loads of reasons these two wouldn't get along.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy...

“So that’s clear then, we wait for Josephine to make contact with the Arl.” The Inquisitor’s voice suggested she was making a statement rather than asking a question, but still she looked at her advisors for consent.

“Agreed.” Leliana assented.

Cullen bit his tongue, face red with frustration before exhaling loudly through his nose and adding “Agreed.”

“If you have reservations Commander, I’d prefer you to voice them now.” The Inquisitor prompted, she was aware that he did not always agree with the way she chose to handle matters and waited patiently.

“I have voiced them, repeatedly, yet you have chosen our Ambassador’s more…diplomatic approach. I only hope it proves a success.” There was an awkward silence as the women shot shy glances at one another. Once again Cullen felt isolated and small. He uncrossed his arms and made to move from the room, they could gossip after he’d left if they had nothing better to do. The sound of snickering made him turn again. Josephine brazenly held his glare as she quickly snatched back some papers from the Inquisitor.

“What?” He didn’t bother to disguise the steel in his voice.

“I have requests for information on your lineage from a few interested parties at the Winter Palace.” Josephine smirked.

“Andraste preserve me.” Not this childish nonsense again, he thought. “Feel free to use those requests as kindling.” 

“No, I shall take them. I want to know who pines for our commander.” A lewd sing-song tone undercutting Leliana’s words.

“I am not bait.” The ladies were already partly out the door, clearly pleased with their efforts to unnerve him yet again, when Josephine patted his arm adding:

“Hush, just look pretty.” His nostrils flared. Pretty? He was their elder, a soldier, a commander for Andraste’s sake and these women treated him like a toy. Worse than a toy, one of Josephine’s dolls to be dressed up and propped up and admired.

“Ambassador, a word.” He held her arm, not ungently, and prevented her from following her companions while his other hand shut the door.

“Yes Commander.” She barely looked up from her clipboard.

“I feel I must speak up, but I hardly know where to begin.” His voice professional, he would endeavour to command respect.

“Perhaps you should come to me when you do know. I am rather busy.”

“Of course you are, you have letters to write.” He laughed bitterly.

“Am I supposed to understand why you’re sulking?” She pouted at him.

“Yes! That. That’s exactly what I’m sul…I’m not sulking actually, I have a legitimate complaint. Your tone, your whole demeanour is deeply offensive and I’m beginning to feel undermined by such comments.”

“Ha! You poor thing. I should watch my tone because the Commander of the Inquisition is feeling sorry for himself? Excuse me for suggesting this but has it occurred to you that your insecurities may have nothing to do with me and everything to do with your own narrow mindedness?”

“What? I’m not insecure about myself…”

“Aren’t you? A little joke about your admirers and suddenly we’re undermining you!”

“Maker preserve me, it’s not one joke Josephine and you know it. You can roll your eyes all you like but you know it’s true. Every damned council is the same; I hardly know why I bother attending at all…”

“Mmm, so we have something nice to look at?” She raised an eyebrow, knowing it would only anger him further.

“This again – I’m telling you now Ambassador if our situations were reversed you would soon complain. All the three of you do is mock me and ignore my advice.”

“I’d have to disagree.”

“Of course you would. Disagree all you like, I’m used to it. Every plan, every carefully constructed argument dismissed out of hand. You may not like me…”

“’I’ve never said that.” Her voice not entirely convincing and the blush didn’t help conceal the lie.

“But, I was chosen for a reason you know, and it makes me furious to see that so quickly forgotten.”

“So I can see. But really, why shout at me? I offer my advice as freely as you. It’s not my fault the Inquisitor prefers my ‘diplomatic approach’, as you so scornfully called it, to your bluster and thoughtlessness.” 

“Don’t use those big, innocent eyes on me, it won’t work.”

“Really? I don’t think you’re as put out as you say.” She bit her lip, inside she slightly berated herself but really, he was just too easy. A delightful huffy mouse, she would play with him, run him through her claws a little. After all, he had provoked her.

“Enough. You know exactly how you’ve been playing them. You’re as bad as all those vipers at the Winter Palace.”

“How dare you?! I’ve never…”

“No. How dare you. How dare you use your subtlety, your charm, your, your manipulation here of all places – within the Inquisition itself as if the Herald were incapable of making up her own mind.”

“You are very, very wrong Commander. As you have been about so many of our efforts.” The idea of a game had dissipated almost as soon as she’d thought it, she was beginning to feel a low stirring of fire in her stomach. There were certain accusations she would not brook.

“Well I haven’t had much opportunity to learn from my mistakes. Every time the Inquisitor begins to listen you distract her; make me a laughing stock. Why, all that nonsense today ‘just look pretty’ indeed. Do you think I served the Templars for 15 years so that...are you laughing?”

“Yes Commander. For your information I don’t think you served the Templars for 15 years as their golden poster boy at all, if anything you served them simply because no one else had told you to do otherwise, and your reputation was hardly immaculate – a dumb soldier caught in a game he didn’t understand. I’d say Cassandra took pity on you appointing you here.”

“Really? Well, while we’re being direct, I don’t think you’re half as smart as you pretend to be. I think our diplomatic relations with Orlais hang by a thread and you mock me, deflect attention, to distract the Inquisitor from the precarious position you have manoeuvred us into. You must be terrified that your artificial friendship is the only thing blinding her discovery.”

“Of course, you’d have to find deficiencies elsewhere to blame. You haven’t the sharpness of wit to appreciate the delicacy with which I operate.” Her words may have managed to sound cold but it was a veneer, her skin burned with indignation.

“Delicacy? Tell me, was it your delicacy that lost the Lavellan Clan?”

She slapped him hard, she would have done so a second time if he’d not caught her wrist. The static jolted through both of them and they became aware of how close they’d become. He frowned, amber eyes narrowing as if gauging the situation for a moment. His hand still held hers fast but he’d absent-mindedly stroked the back of her soft, ungloved hand with his leathered thumb. She laughed, not unkindly this time, more a nervous mannerism.

“For example Commander. When I speak of delicacy, I’d theorise that a more perceptive man would press his advantage now.” He didn’t respond, careful to avoid a trap, more mockery. Yet her eyes were dark, beckoning. Hairs on his neck began to shiver at the change of atmosphere. Josephine simply sighed, returning the grip on her hand with a squeeze of her own she continued: “Perhaps this is why the Inquisitor takes my advice over yours. You’re all talk, all show and armour - impressive, for a moment only; whereas I know exactly what I’m doing.” As she’d been speaking, she’d leant further forward to him so that the last words were low whispers accompanied by her body pressing further toward him.

“Shut up.” His harsh words swallowed as he kissed her with a ferocity she found delightfully surprising. His stubble, his scar, his clashing teeth all as rough and abrasive as his cold words had been yet now…now she wanted to feel it over every part of her. Her own lips were more nimble, tongue working to smooth his hurried advances, he groaned in appreciation enjoying the heat of her spiced mouth against his.  
Blood pounding in his brain heightened the sensation of the vicious little scratches she was leaving up his neck and in his scalp – he was almost glad he’d attended in his full armour. His own hands returned her exploration by rolling over her spine, his knuckles kneading at the fragile fabric determined to leave destruction.

Her nails digging through his hair, deliberately raking through his styled curls. She smirked as she kissed him, his affront at all their teasing and yet he still waxed his hair for a simple council meeting. Stupid, vain man. Stupid, vain man whose tongue was like lightning inside her mouth. An obscene groan escaped her as he drew his mouth away for a moment, stubble grazing her cheek.

“Lock the door.” He commanded.

“No need, it’s been seen to.” His jaw going slack as his pupils widened were worth her efforts alone. She tried not to look too superior as she continued: “I told you, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“You were expecting this?” Yes, just try to look outraged, she thought. Nothing could disguise the visible want straining at his trousers now.

“All part of the game. Understanding your adversaries better.” Her hands tugged him back to her, their noses colliding as their lips once again began to work on each other. Building a steadier rhythm now, audible sighs and breaths escaping them easily. His hands surveyed her, testing her fragility and strength. Pausing and digging harder each time he elicited a moan, she rewarded him by grinding her hips against him lending friction to his groin. She did not divert her focus elsewhere, he was so well armoured it would be wasteful plus she expected him to be a simple and direct man in all things. 

Eventually the pooling heat grew too much and his arms encased her, slamming her against the door, confirming that it was indeed locked. The jolt parted their lips briefly, for a moment he considered apologising and then her calculating perusal of his face shocked a second thought of ‘fuck it’ into his brain and his mouth latched onto the tawny skin of her throat before he could consider his actions much further. The gratified moan she made spurred him on to taste her further, licking at her collarbone, her jaw. Spice and perfume and…sheer wealth salted his tongue, so unlike any taste he’d had before. He couldn’t be sure he liked it but the pure, exotic strangeness made his head buzz. Her little murmurs made it clear how much she enjoyed his roughness, she almost audibly tutted when his mouth met hers with a closed kiss which he remedied straight away by bruising her ear with nuzzling. 

“I don’t need to be your adversary Josephine.” Slipped from his lips, he screwed his eyes shut for a moment. Maker, please let that not have sounded too desperate. To compensate he dug his fingers into her thighs and drew her legs up around his waist pinning her, feeling all the ridiculous silk and ribbons writhe against him. He growled at the sensation.

“Really? I can’t imagine you treat your friends like this.” She purred back, the fingers that had relaxed into stroking his hair tightened once again and tugged it, pulling his mouth away, pulling tears from his eyes. He acted on the pain by using his body to hold her in place, her legs gripping- only too happy to oblige as he inelegantly removed his gloves. Considering the layers of Josephine’s dress, they parted with accommodating ease as he slid one hand up her thigh to rest against the damp heat of her core. He pressed against her and she pressed back but he didn’t begin moving, not yet. He kissed her once again, harder than he would have liked; softer than she expected. The contrast forcing her to make eye contact with him.

“Well you probably couldn’t have imagined yourself allowing this dumb soldier between your legs a couple of hours ago, yet here we are.” His voice. His damned voice. It stroked her as his hand began to caress her lips, her small clothes were as silky as the rest of her garments and seemed designed to lure a man to stroke at her. 

She bit her lip. Yes, this was most pleasing, she could relax her entire weight against this monument of a man and he wouldn’t flinch. His large, calloused hands stroking evenly over her, gently applying firm pressure to the tight bundle of nerves at her opening. She had to admit, though not out loud, that perhaps all those years of training had not been a waste, he’d obviously had a good teacher somewhere. She looked at his scarred mouth, slightly parted, breathing heavily as he coldly observed her face. His face was pretty, she’d told him so before, but it was also a mess. Soft lips and warm eyes framed with an ugly scar and careless stubble. She immediately imagined how all the contrasting textures would feel against her elsewhere…she shuddered, he looked far too pleased with himself. She didn’t want to look at his face any longer she simply wanted to feel it. 

Snaking her hands up his shoulders, she began to push him away, unhooking her legs.

“You’d be surprised what I can imagine Commander.” She kissed him, encouraging and wet. His rough mouth delicious under her velvet tongue “There’s nothing wrong with a dumb soldier, they follow orders so beautifully.” The pressure on his shoulders increased until he all but fell to his knees, immediately accepting the challenge, flinging the layers of her skirt open once more and pressing his face against the now burning heat of her. He breathed her in before flexing his tongue, running it over the moist silk, hands holding her thighs steady. Hands that were warm, supple but so rough, rougher than any texture she’d usually allow near her skin and it felt magnificent. He used his wicked hands to urge her to spread her legs wider, hooking one leg over his shoulder so that she was exposed to him with the thin layer of silk a delicious barrier through which he worked his tongue. 

This tongue, the tongue he was always biting in their meetings; the tongue that tutted at all her suggestions; the tongue that absently flicked at his scar when he concentrated was now entirely devoted to drawing a long lick from the base of her opening to the top where he swirled it over her clit before repeating the motion. He growled, contented as her legs shook around him. 

His face hovered over the drenched fabric of her small clothes. She knew without looking that he’d be pulling that irritating smirk, someone at some point must have told him it was charming. They were wrong, it just made her want slap him –so she did. He was too quick for her and grabbed at the violent hand, rolling the fingers over his tongue and sucking on them before grasping at her wrist and pushing her hand into the front of her knickers. 

She would not disappoint, showing how ready she was for more she plunged two fingers directly into her slick heat, moaning more loudly than she had for him. He pulled the fabric away with one hand for a better view using his tongue and hands to assist her. The sensation of so many fingers was overwhelming. His massive hands massaging her lips, spreading her wide so his tongue could delve deeper, chase her own rapid digits left her reeling – where did he end and she begin? Before long she could feel muscles begin to contract, to softly swell and throb. 

He added his own hard index finger along to hers, alternating the thrusts, going deeper than she could hope to, each time twisting and pressing against a place deep inside her that she never knew existed. He could feel her drawing closer to the edge, her voice beginning to deepen, to make demands – more, faster, harder. Each time he obliged, each time listening for a new order. He was biting gently between long, hard licks driving her toward her climax with a precision she found astonishing. 

Her mouth hung open as a scream tore her, his finger buried far inside her pressing firmly against her inner nerves until she shuddered, almost painfully sensitive. The finger was withdrawn and he almost immediately replaced the heat with his mouth kissing and lapping catching all of her juices as she basked in the waves that carried her back to her senses. 

She hadn’t realised her eyes had been closed until she opened them on a shocking sight. Shocking in its vulgarity and shocking in its eroticism. Cullen, face red, lips bruised and swollen licking his fingers and staring at her like a hunter luxuriating in a kill. She shifted to let down her leg, disturbed to feel the hold he possessed over her.

“Do you have any complaints about my lack of delicacy now?” That fucking smirk again. Now forever tainted, forever mingled with her own flooded arousal. Just the thought of it making her muscles snap and relax again.

“Most impressive.” She was not ungenerous and had to allow him this small victory.

“And for more than a moment I’d like to think.” He huskily breathed over her as he stood once again, body still close, still commanding her. She swallowed, maintaining a show of control as she pushed his chest away back towards the war table until he was sitting against it, hands loosely around her waist.

“So you were listening? Excellent. I was beginning to think you only listened to the sound of your own voice.” His hands were already working her blouse open, far too smoothly. She’d find his confidence distasteful if she couldn’t still feel hot liquid pooling between her legs and taste it on his lips as he teased her tongue into his mouth once again.

He chuckled “Well, someone has to.” Her teeth nearly punctured his neck, immediately soothed by the hot lapping of her tongue. His head fell between her bare breasts, not exactly kissing but certainly enveloping her flesh with his once again. His tongue, teeth, stubble working their spell over her nipples, hands cupping her, greedily consuming her. She pulled his hair to steer his face to hers again wanting to kiss him, kiss him over and over. She was sure there was something she could do to unlock him just one fraction more.

“Oh Commander, that’s your insecurity speaking again. I like hearing your voice…” He howled as she bit him hard again in the same place, permanently reminding him of their encounter before they’d even finished. He quickly undid the laces of his trousers, she tried not to gasp; she wanted him to work for it. “Especially now.” Especially now she was going to make an equally earth-shattering impression on him she thought as his hands gripped her hips, reversing their positions so it was her turn to sit at the edge of the table, him rolling his aching, hard cock against her. 

“Then stop speaking so you can hear me.” He held her face easily with one hand, commanding her attention as he used the other to slide into her, jaw clenching as he felt her tightness strain to pull him in.  
He pulled her further to the edge of the table, her legs again finding their way around his hips until he eased the last of his thickness inside of her. Once deeply planted, he leant his forehead against hers and simply rocked a little as she moaned and shifted growing accustomed to his form. As large and rough as the rest of his body. Her digging heels encouraged him to begin in earnest, he drew back his hips and drove into her the first full thrust making him grunt. 

As he established a rolling pace with his hips, he began moving his hands over her once more, pinching at her nipples and holding her breasts to his mouth. Every time her own fingers moved over his clothes, he easily swatted her away. She persisted until he was forced to capture her wrists and her unwanted attentions in his own hands, pinning them to the table top at her sides. With his hands now occupied his mouth became more adventurous, running over her throat, her ears, collarbone, all the time pumping her with building intensity. She arched her back away from him, desperate for him to find that marvellous wall inside her once again, he chuckled darkly, seemingly knowing what she wanted, and ordered her to lean back further. He drew her knees up against him and used his own hand to run over her torso and chest, leaning her back against the table, markers rolling to the floor with a distracting clatter. 

Once she began grinding against him, he held her legs and drew back so that he could fuck her harder. He was ashamed of the thought as it flashed into his mind, and immediately realised the thought was causing his breath to sharpen, his muscles to contract. Yes, he actually enjoyed the thought of fucking her, seeing her usually poised expression destroyed with gasping, her hair becoming unpinned spread over the map. He let curses fall from his mouth, sizzling as they landed, she thought he was an ignorant soldier so he played the part. 

Creators, her body looked perfect laid bare, spread apart by the thickness of him pounding in and out of her. It felt selfish and wanton and thoroughly deserved. He quickened the pace now wanting to finish, wanting to feel release. Her own desires were babbling from her, what felt good, how she wanted to feel him, he found the sound distracting and held his hand lightly over her. She took his hand with relish and suckled on his thumb rather than talk further. 

He could feel himself tense, close to finishing and rocked his hips buried deep to stretch her to her limits. Her back arched up and she cried out sudden and clear. Her tightening around him, seemed to be pulling him inevitably towards his own end but he didn’t want to finish inside her. Spreading her blouse open further and running his hands once more over her dark breasts, she lazily opened her eyes to smile. She knew what this filthy soldier wanted to do and she’d let him because he’d been so good to her. He pulled out, groaning and pulsing as he painted her body with his hot seed. His knuckles white against the table edge as his eyes slowly opened and he locked eye contact with her once more.

He took her breath away, this enormous man crumpled, spent, dripping and sweating. Why did such a crude sight clutch at her so? She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, she didn’t want to consider him anymore. He fell down onto the table next to her. Their breathing levelling and in unison. She kept her eyes closed, she could feel the heat of his hand next to hers. Would he hold it? Did she want him to? She flexed her fingers slightly, not knowing if he’d see, take a risk.

He kissed her cheek, awkwardly rearranging her hair, trying to protect his heart from enjoying the softness of it too much. He knew it was another trap, the afterglow simply blurring the sharp edges of their difficult relationship. One frantic coupling would not make all their differences vanish; he gulped trying to retrace his thoughts to their original purpose.

“Josie, I’ve always enjoyed working with you, admired you even, but I’ll not endure your persistent disrespect. I hope that’s clear now.” Hearing no objection other than a neutral hum, he closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her mouth, slightly trembling at the unguarded tenderness in his movements. His lips were not met by hers; they were met with her palm instead as she pushed his face away, softly, affectionately but the purpose clear. This did not change anything.

The disappointment that flooded his bones pushed him to his feet and he immediately began to rebuckle his belt. Quickly finding his gloves, he drew a clean, white handkerchief out of his cloak, running it briefly over the sheen of his face before blushingly offering it to her to clean up. She accepted wordlessly, making no effort to move. She looked thoroughly debauched, legs lolling over the edge of the war table, golden ruffles ripped aside exposing her tanned flesh now bedaubed with his cum. One of her hands splayed over her face so that he could not read her expression. Perfect. He understood, despite his lack of delicacy, that he had been played. 

The sound of the latch lifting on the door seemed to rouse Josephine and he heard a soft noise behind him, it could have been his name but he didn’t flatter himself of this for certain.

“Yes?” He replied.

“You can’t walk out of here like that.” His heart beat in his throat for a moment. “Your hair is a mess!” Her mouth broke into a beautifully deadly smile again, a light laugh cutting through the thick air. A laugh that was difficult to decipher. Was this their joke to share or was she laughing at him? He opted for caution, and frowned, ran a hand over his hair and left. 

Josephine held her breath for a moment before sprawling back on the table blinking. Her eyes did not sting, she told herself, she was just tired.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt:  
> "I'd really like Cullen disagreeing strongly with Josephine or Dorian, whether it's differing opinions or the wrong chemistry, they just don't get along and hatefuck it out.
> 
> Could be something as simple as Cullen wanting revenge for Josephine embarrassing him during the Wicked Grace bit? Or wanting to wipe that smug look off Dorian's face? I don't care, but keep it consensual please!"
> 
> Hope I met your expectations :)


End file.
